


Grace

by EternalAgape



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Insecure!Merlin, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of execution, Temporary Character Death, the execution scene is mostly Merlin and Arthur being angsty though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalAgape/pseuds/EternalAgape
Summary: Merlin’s magic is discovered when he saves Arthur from an assassination attempt, and Uther sentences him to die at dawn.  Arthur insists that they are married first.  Inspired by a song called “Grace.”





	Grace

**Author's Note:**

> My first Merlin fic – this story is inspired by the song Grace by the High Kings. I highly encourage you to listen to it, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be while reading this.  
> In the story, Merlin and Arthur have been in a relationship for an unspecified amount of time. This doesn’t neatly fit in with canon anywhere; it was just an idea that needed to be explored.

It started out like any other Tuesday in May: Merlin woke Arthur, shuffled him throughout his day, helped him evade poisoning yet again.  All in a day’s work for the prince’s manservant.

Except it wasn’t.  Uther had seen Merlin’s eyes flash gold as he used his magic to tip the poisoned cup out of Arthur’s hand, and Merlin was swiftly ordered to the dungeons, the sound of Arthur’s confused and angry yells echoing in the hall behind him.

The guards that took him to his cell were not gentle; in fact, they delighted in each taking a sharp kick to Merlin’s stomach and the side of his face, leaving him bruised and swallowing his own blood.  A pair of cold iron manacles were wrapped around Merlin’s wrists.

“Those are to make sure you don’t do any more magic, _sorcerer_ ,” the guard spat.  The cell door was shut with a resounding _clang_ , and Merlin was left with just a single guard stationed in the hallway.

Then there was silence.  Merlin could have been in the cell for minutes or hours; he wasn’t quite sure.  Finally, though, he had a visitor.

“Sorcerer,” Uther said, causing Merlin to look defiantly up at the man on the other side of the cell bars.  “You are to burn at dawn,” Uther decreed.  Having nothing more to say to a sorcerer, he turned and left Merlin alone once more.

Dawn.  That was…Merlin glanced at the small window in his cell.  The sun was still up, although just barely; he had been taken at noon.  That left about thirteen hours until dawn, give or take an hour.

Thirteen hours left to live.

Merlin had no way out of this situation; he tried to escape, hoping that maybe his magic would be strong enough to overpower the cuffs bound around his aching wrists, but it was a futile effort.  All he succeeded in doing was making himself so nauseous that he choked up bile.

Despite what Arthur always thought, he wasn’t enough of an idiot to try that again.

He spent his time in silence, trying to keep his thoughts as blank as he could.  If he didn’t, he would only think of…

No.  He refused to think of how angry Arthur would be with him – how angry Arthur would be with his manservant, the warlock who loved him and lied to him.

***

The sun was completely below the horizon when footsteps pounded on the stone stairs down into the dungeon.  The guard’s head turned towards the visitor, bowing immediately in respect.

“Leave us,” Arthur’s stern voice commanded.

“But sire-” the guard protested.

“You may stand at the top of the stairs.  I shall have privacy while I question the sorcerer,” Arthur said harshly.

The guard acquiesced with a nod, turning sharply to leave the hallway.

Merlin closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the stone wall of the tiny cell.  He didn’t want to have this conversation.  He didn’t want to see the hurt and betrayal in Arthur’s eyes.

The footsteps continued, finally coming to a stop just in front of Merlin’s cell.  A throat was cleared, but Merlin made no movement.  “Tell me why, Merlin,” Arthur spoke, his tone revealing nothing.  Since Merlin refused to open his eyes, he had no clues as to what Arthur was feeling; he was pretty confident, however, that Arthur would be feeling pure, unbridled rage.

“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter, sire,” Merlin mumbled, groggy from his wounds.  “I was born with magic.  I _am_ magic.  It’s as much a part of me as my inability to wake you up on time or my clumsiness.”

“But why did you do it, Merlin?  Why did you save me if this is the cost?” Arthur urged, his voice sounding thick.

“Was there another option?”

“Yes!” Arthur bellowed, the sound echoing through Merlin’s cell.

“You would rather I had let you die than allow your father to rid Camelot of a sorcerer?” Merlin asked, but he already knew the answer.  Magic was forbidden in Camelot.

“You’re not a sorcerer, Merlin,” Arthur said.

Merlin finally, _finally_ opened his eyes, staring in disbelief at the prince.  Arthur’s face was flushed, and if Merlin didn’t know any better, he would say the prince’s eyes were misty.  “I have magic.  What does that make me?”  Despite Merlin’s magic being blocked by the heavy shackles, he had enough access to his power to make his eyes flash a bright gold.

Arthur didn’t even flinch.  “I know you have magic, Merlin, I’m not _stupid_.  I have _eyes_ , you know.  What I meant is that you’re…”  He sighed.  “We’ve been together for years, Merlin.  You’re…Merlin.  You’re _my_ Merlin, and I can’t bear to see you die in this or any lifetime.”

Merlin gave a humorless laugh.  “You’re going to have to get used to that pretty quickly.  I’m burning tomorrow, after all.”

Arthur looked as if the wind had been knocked out of him.  His face went unnaturally pale.  “What?” he breathed.

“You didn’t know?  Your father told me himself.”

Arthur’s mouth moved, but no words came out.  He knew what the sentence for magic was; he had heard his father talking about Merlin’s death, but he had thought he might have more time to convince his father otherwise.

More time to save his Merlin.

“I can’t let that happen,” he finally said.

“It’s not like you can do anything about it,” Merlin responded resignedly.  “I used magic in front of the king and multiple other witnesses.  I am aware of Camelot’s laws, and so are you.  There’s no use having false hope.”  _Even if maybe I…_ Merlin didn’t let himself finish the thought.

“No.  I refuse to watch,” Arthur said definitively.  He turned to leave, and no matter how many times Merlin tried to stutter out some word to make him stay for just another moment, the prince did not come back.

That, perhaps, hurt Merlin the most.  He would much rather Arthur had raged at him, yelled about how much of an idiot manservant he was or yelled about how he could never employ a filthy sorcerer anyways.  This?  Leaving, with barely a word?  Merlin had not prepared for this possibility.

***

A long while later – time which Merlin spent wallowing in the thoughts of him impending doom and contemplating the growing hunger pains in his stomach – Arthur returned.  He paused in front of the cell, silent, just staring at Merlin’s hunched form.  Merlin considered moving towards the bars that separated himself from the prince but thought better of it.  His aching ribs protested against any amount of movement, let alone dragging himself across the six-foot cell.

“What is it?” Merlin whispered, but Arthur said nothing.  He seemed to be…waiting.  A second set of footsteps descended the stairs, quickly making their way towards Merlin’s cell.  “Sir Leon?” Merlin asked more strongly, confused as to why the second knight had come to visit him.

“We don’t have much time; the next guard is due to take over soon.  Are you going through with this or not?” Sir Leon asked in a hushed voice from just outside the cell, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

“Going through with what?” Merlin asked, his voice cracking.

Arthur finally broke his silence, earnestly declaring, “I’m not letting you die without making you mine.”

It took Merlin a moment to process what Arthur was saying.  “No,” Merlin said firmly.  “No.  I am not allowing you to marry a dead man.”

“You’re not dead, though, Merlin.”  The “ _not yet”_ remained unsaid.

“You know I am to die at dawn.  I won’t have you tying yourself to me for the rest of your life,” Merlin continued to protest.

“I know it’s hard to understand, Merlin, but I will never find another person for me.  I will never _love_ another.  If you…when…if I don’t do this, I will regret it for the rest of my days.”  Arthur glanced at Leon.  “Do you have the keys?”

“Aye, sire,” he replied, pulling a jingling keyring out of his pocket and unlocking the cell door.

Arthur stepped past the bars and finally got a good look at Merlin.  “What happened?!” he exclaimed, horrified at the deep bruising on Merlin’s cheeks and the way his bloodied hands clung to his chest.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Merlin responded obstinately.

“It will _always_ matter, Merlin.  To me, if to no one else.”  Arthur crouched down on the cold dirt floor, kneeling next to Merlin’s huddled form.  He gingerly wrapped his arms around Merlin’s shoulders, shifting him over as carefully as he could manage until Merlin was leaning fully against Arthur’s chest.  “This okay?” Arthur asked quietly.  Merlin gave a weak nod in return, letting himself relax slightly into Arthur’s hold.  “We’re ready, Leon,” Arthur told his knight.

“We are gathered here today to witness the binding of these two men,” Sir Leon began quietly.  “Do you, Merlin, agree to bind yourself to Prince Arthur from this day forth?”

Merlin hesitated.  He couldn’t bind himself to Arthur for mere hours.  It would be selfish, and he couldn’t be selfish with Arthur.

“If you honestly do not wish to do this, then simply say so, but if you are not speaking for some idiotic, _noble_ reason…” Arthur murmured into Merlin’s ear.

Merlin swallowed heavily.  He wanted to marry Arthur.  He had for years, even before they were together; they were two sides of the same coin, after all.  They completed each other.  And maybe it was okay for Merlin to be a little selfish just this one.

But…

Before Merlin could second guess himself, he murmured as clearly as he could manage around his aching jaw, “I do.  I bind myself to you, my heart to yours.”  Having said the words and being unable to take them back, Merlin turned his head to stare into Arthur’s eyes as if to say, _It’s okay.  You can back out now.  I won’t hold it against you._

And maybe he pushed those words a little too forcefully, since Arthur then gave him his patented “idiot manservant” look before saying, “If you think I’m going to let you walk to that pyre tomorrow without knowing how utterly loved you are, then you don’t know me at all.”

“The ring, sire?” Sir Leon prompted.  Arthur pulled a set of matching rings from a small pouch on his waist, placing one in the palm of Merlin’s quivering hand.

“How long have you had these?” Merlin asked, his hand closing around the simple metal band.

“Let’s just say that it’s been a while,” Arthur responded with a secretive smile.  He offered Merlin his left hand, allowing the ring to be slid onto his fourth finger.  Merlin let out a shaky breath as he stared at the ring.

“Do you, Prince Arthur-”

“Arthur.  Just Arthur,” he said to Leon before addressing the man in his arms.  “I come to you, Merlin, as your…”  How could Arthur even describe what they were?  “I come to you as just Arthur, as you are just Merlin.”

Leon clears his throat before saying, “Arthur.  Do you, Arthur, agree to bind yourself to Merlin from this day forth?”

“Merlin, I bind myself to you in every way I possibly can.  My heart to your heart, my soul to your soul.”  Arthur gently took Merlin’s hand, being careful to mind the fact that his two wrists were connected by the shackles.  “With all my love, I place this ring on your finger as a symbol of our unending bond.”  Arthur slid the ring onto Merlin’s left hand, giving it a gentle kiss for good measure.  “All that I have and all that I am is for you, in this world and in every world after this.”  With that, Arthur then placed a kiss to Merlin’s lips.

A shock ripped through them both, causing Merlin to cry out as he jostled his broken ribs.  It felt like a raging fire at first, then cooled to a gentle ember glowing in the pits of their stomachs.

“What was that?” Arthur whispered.

“Arthur, what did you do?” Merlin asked shakily.  Arthur shook his head mutely, his mouth hanging open in confusion.  “I think you’ve…tied us together on yet another level.”

The thought terrified Merlin.  He knew that whatever had occurred had been a result of his magic responding to Arthur’s words.  Given the endless amount of magic he possessed, there was no telling how strongly they were now connected – and what that could mean at dawn.

It also terrified him on yet another level.  His magic had responded to _Arthur_.  Did that mean he no longer had control of his magic, or was it something entirely different?

“May you both…” Leon began before stopping to clear his throat.  “May you both live together for as long as you can.”  It was not the traditional conclusion by any means, but it was the truest thing he could say at the present moment.

With a sharp bow to his king, Leon left the cell to intercept the changing guard.  “I will be taking over for the evening.  The king wants the sorcerer under the strictest watch, and who better than a knight?” Leon told the guard, leaving no room for discussion.  The guard, having no reason to say no to such a well-reasoned night off, simply responded, “Yes, sir,” and went on his way.

The sullen newlyweds sat in silence, Merlin still resting against Arthur’s side.  “Is there anything I can get for you?  Blankets, food?” Arthur asked helplessly once Sir Leon had settled in down the hallway.

Despite his hunger, Merlin didn’t want to ask for something to eat.  He knew for certain that his request would be refused by the king himself, and Arthur would be told that those who were to be executed didn’t have a need for food.  He didn’t want to make Arthur go through that.

Merlin shook his head once, even that small movement causing the bruises on his face to flare with pain.  “Just…hold me, please?” he pleaded.  And to Arthur, that may have been the easiest and hardest request Merlin could have ever made of him – to hold his Merlin and comfort him as he prepared to die and take Arthur’s heart, Arthur’s _everything_ , with him.

The hours of darkness weren’t long enough.  They didn’t talk; they simply held one another, and at some point, Merlin had fallen asleep, likely from a combination of exhaustion and overwhelming pain from his injuries.  Arthur, on the other hand, scarcely blinked throughout the night.  Every blink was one second of looking at Merlin that was taken away from him, one less second of their final hours together for him to remember.

Through the bars in the small cell window, Arthur could see the first sign of dawn breaking, and with it, he felt the first shattering in his heart.  He wanted more time with Merlin, just a moment more, but he knew that the executioners would be there soon.

He gently stroked Merlin’s battered face, his fingers carding through the unruly hair that covered Merlin’s forehead.  “Merlin,” he murmured before gently placing his lips to Merlin’s forehead.  “I’m sorry.  It’s time.”

***

Merlin hadn’t been taken gently from his cell, but at least he avoided any new broken bones or another beating.  He was tied tightly to the pole at the center of the pyre, the position pulling at his broken ribs and leaving him gasping to breathe.

Merlin tuned out Uther’s speech.  He knew what would be said, anyway.  His character would be defiled, his loyalty to Camelot twisted into some kind of evil plot, and his life would be declared forfeit for his so-called crimes.  His thoughts were better spent thinking of Arthur and sending him whatever love he could.

He hoped that…he hoped things would work out somehow, that Arthur would forgive him in the end, but just in case…

_Please take care of Gaius.  Protect my mother.  Stay safe._

Uther was handed the lit torch, and he approached the pyre.

_I wish I could have been a better manservant for you – a better everything.  I’m sorry I’ve failed you._

Arthur wanted to scream.  That was utter rubbish – despite his scatterbrained tendencies, Merlin was the best manservant he ever had, the most loyal friend, the best _everything_.  He was the one constant in Arthur’s life and had never failed him – not when it really counted.

Uther leaned down to light the bottom of the pyre, the torch touching the bottom kindling and sending it crackling to life.

_I wish I had told you sooner.  I wish we had longer together.  I love you._

The fire crept up the pyre, the first flames beginning to lick at Merlin’s feet.

He refused to scream – not for the fire or his broken ribs or the bruises on his face.  He would not give Uther the satisfaction, but even more than that, he needed to be strong for Arthur for as long as he was alive.

The smoke was filling his lungs, making it even more difficult to breathe.  He squeezed his hands into fists, his fingernails breaking the skin of his palms.

_I’m sorry._

Merlin had nothing to be sorry for – if anything, Arthur did.  He should have kept him _safe_ , he should have- he should have…

Arthur watched as the flames grew higher, tears clouding his vision.  He furiously wiped them away.  As much as he wanted to, he refused to look away.  He needed Merlin to know that he was here until the very end.

_I’m sorry._

No matter how many times he said it, Merlin would never be able to convey how truly sorry he was for leaving Arthur – especially not now, just a few hours after he had selfishly let Arthur marry him.

The flames grew higher.  Merlin’s clothes were beginning to burn, his skin being scalded along with it.

And yet, he refused to scream even as his wedding ring grew hot, feeling like a fresh coal on his finger and searing at his flesh.

_Goodbye, my Arthur_ , Merlin whispered in the prince’s mind.

Arthur yelped, his hand going to the ring on his left hand that was currently searing into the flesh beneath his glove.  He tore the glove off to be met with the sight of red-hot metal.  He tried to slide the ring off with his other hand, but it would not budge and only served to char the fabric of his leather glove.  He couldn’t do anything about the ring, just as he couldn’t do anything for his Merlin.

And as he watched the flames grow higher, he finally screamed.

_I’m sorry, Arthur._

Merlin couldn’t take it anymore – his broken ribs, the bruises on his face, the smoke in his lungs, his charring flesh – it was all too much.

He screamed.

*******

His awareness returned slowly.  First, there was the sensation of something cold on his left ring finger.  Next came the gentle chirping of birds in the morning, the hooting of owls as evening fell.  The smell of the forest: pine needles and dirt and stagnant water.  The taste of fresh air, crisp and cold on his tongue.

The last thing to come was Merlin’s sight.  He opened his eyes, looking at the bluest sky he had ever seen and a copse of verdant trees surrounding him.  His hands – his charred hands were repairing themselves as he watched, all except for a small band of scarring beneath his ring.

He didn’t know where he was; he didn’t know how he had gotten there, but he knew this was not an “elsewhere” or an “after” or anything of the kind.

“You’re awake, young warlock,” a familiar voice greeted him.

“Kil- Kilgharrah?” Merlin croaked, his throat dry and scratchy.  He had no idea how long it had been since he had last spoken – since his heart had last beat.

“I felt your death, and I felt your return,” he told Merlin.  “I came to your side as soon as I was able.”

“How long…?” Merlin asked.

“You’ve been dormant for nearly three weeks.”

“Dormant?”

“You cannot truly die, Merlin, for you are magic at your very core.  You may lose all signs of life, all characteristics of one who is alive, but you can never permanently die,” the dragon explained.  “You may turn to ash again, but you will always rise so long as your Once and Future King has need of you, and perhaps even when he has gone.”

“Ash?  You mean I…”

“You burned as far as anything can.  I am not a patient dragon, but I summoned you and waited as every speck of you recollected itself and drifted here.”

Merlin wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.  Hearing that he had died, truly died, and yet he was somehow _alive_ again… “And Arthur?” Merlin asked finally.

“In Camelot; brooding, I expect.”  Merlin braced his hands on the ground, carefully pushing himself onto his knees.  “And _just_ where do you think you’re going, young warlock?”

“Camelot.”  With a grunt, Merlin pushed himself onto his feet.  He was stiff all over, and his entire body ached with pain.  _I guess that’s what dying will do to you,_ he mused.  “Which way is it?” he asked the great dragon.

With a snort of amusement – or maybe the dragon was simply judging Merlin for his unyielding stupidity – Kilgharrah said, “You won’t be walking in that condition.  On this one occasion, I suppose that I can provide you with an easier mode of transport.”  He bent to the forest floor, tilting the shoulder closest to Merlin lower.  With a grateful smile, Merlin clambered his sore body onto the dragon’s back.  “And we will _never_ speak of this again, Dragonlord, is that understood?”  Kilgharrah didn’t wait for a reply before he took to the skies, barely giving Merlin a chance to hold on so that he wouldn’t fall back to the ground.

***

Merlin was deposited a short distance outside of Camelot.  Kilgharrah couldn’t be seen near the citadel, so Merlin would need to walk the remaining distance himself.

“Thank you,” Merlin told the dragon sincerely.

“We will never speak of this again,” Kilgharrah stressed once more before flying off to – wherever it was that dragons go.

Taking in a deep breath, Merlin began his trek back to Camelot.  Back to his home…back to Arthur.  When he was nearing the Lower Town, Merlin made sure that he was safely in the shadows of the forest before casting a glamour to transform himself into someone who wasn’t supposed to be dead – someone that the townspeople wouldn’t look twice at, just a young man in brown clothing passing through the dense crowd.  Merlin walked through the Lower Town, marveling at how little he had appreciated it and how quickly it had all been taken away from him.

He was back, though, and he wasn’t about to waste his life ever again.  To start with, he needed to find Arthur.

Getting into the castle required slightly more effort than passing through the town, but a quick spell to deter people from looking at him allowed him to pass through the servant’s entrance and make his way through the halls unhindered.  His frenzied journey from the unknown forest to Arthur’s door was finally at an end.

Merlin began shaking as he faced the wooden barrier between him and Arthur.  What if Arthur didn’t believe him?  What if Arthur had found someone else?  What if…

And for the second time, Merlin decided to do something he considered selfish.  He opened the door, not even deigning to knock, entered the prince’s room, and shut the heavy door behind him.

The room was a disaster – if Merlin didn’t know any better, he’d think that not a single servant had been in the room since he had left.  ( _Died_ , he corrected himself.)  And…maybe they hadn’t.

“I’ve told you, I’m not hungry,” Arthur barked, not one looking up from the papers on his desk.  “Give the food to someone else so it doesn’t go to waste.”

“You clotpole.  I’m gone for three weeks and you let your rooms get to this state?  Do you not know how to pick up a shirt?  Do you not know how to call someone to do it for you?” Merlin exclaimed, slightly teasing.

“Clot- clotpole?” Arthur stuttered in confusion, his head jerking up from his paperwork to peer at the stranger in front of him.

“Yes, _clotpole_.  You are clearly inept without me, sire.”

“ _Mer-_ lin?”

“Oh – my mistake, sire.  I forgot to remove the glamour.”  And with a simple wave of a hand – the hand that held Merlin’s wedding ring – the nondescript face was gone, replaced by Merlin’s dark hair, blue eyes, and unmistakable ears.

Arthur leapt out of his chair, knocking it backwards into the stone wall behind him.  An inkwell was overturned in his haste, the liquid spreading all over his desk, but none of that mattered now.  Arthur could right a chair, copy over his ruined documents – he had plenty of time for all of that.  His Merlin was back.

In three quick strides, he was across the room, his arms wrapped tightly around Merlin’s bony body.  “By the grace of the gods, you’ve been returned to me,” he murmured into Merlin’s neck, which was suddenly suspiciously wet – not that either of the two men would ever mention it.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin responded.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Arthur retorted, his voiced muffled.  “I should have…I should have done more.  I should have taken you down from the pyre myself.”

“You couldn’t have, not without defying your father.  Then where would we be?”  _Both dead_ , Arthur immediately thought.  He had to force himself not to say it out loud, but Merlin heard the words that ran through his mind regardless.  “Exactly,” he said fiercely.

“You’re back,” Arthur marveled, finally taking a step back to stare at Merlin.  His hands never left Merlin’s shoulders, though, and they continued to move up and down his arms in soothing motions as if reassuring himself that Merlin truly _was_ back.

“I’m back.”

“ _How_?” Arthur asked.

“I’m…well…it seems that I’m the slightest bit immortal?” Merlin tentatively offered.

“The slightest bit _immortal_?” Arthur echoed.

“Immortal, meaning that I cannot die-”

“You idiot, I know what the word immortal mean!  You could have told me this _before_ I let you up on that pyre!”

“Well, I never had the chance to test it before.”  Arthur scoffed at this, muttering the words “test it” and shaking his head.  “I wasn’t sure what would happen.  It was just a…just a myth, and maybe a bit of a gut feeling.  If I had told you I might be immortal and then never came back, how would you have felt?”

Arthur didn’t answer; he knew Merlin was right, but he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to think of the possibility of Merlin’s death ever again.

“I’m here, Arthur,” Merlin said.  “We don’t need to worry about anything else right now.”

“You’re here,” the prince agreed, enveloping Merlin in his arms once more.  They could sort out how to deal with this later.  They would need to devise a plan to allow Merlin to stay here when he was supposed to be dead and remain out of the king’s way, but they could figure that out together.  All that mattered at the moment was that his Merlin had returned, and they were together once more.  “May we live _happily_ together,” Arthur murmured to Merlin.

If either of them had been paying attention, they would have noticed their rings flash gold just for the briefest of moments.

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur’s line of “With all my love, I place this ring on your finger” is almost exactly from the song Grace. It was this and the idea of them getting married the night before one was to die that inspired this fic for me.


End file.
